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Ode to the Rower



There was a ship out sailing

upon a glassy sea,

this beautiful creation,

a wonderous place to be.

Yet many sailors wondered

where the boat would cast ashore.

Would it dock by heavenly isles,

or adorn the ocean floor?

The weather struck so hard and rough,

the tiny ship was not enough

to save it's crew from waves that came

yet not a person was to blame.

Fate's hand was vile and malaced-- towards

thier souls he slashed with two-edged swords.

Seasick and broken and weeping she lay,

the glorious captian was fading away,

and there by the seashelf- torn, weary,and wet,

was the one honest Rower she'll never forget.

Could We Be Butterflies?



Crawling around in the dirt of the earth

trying to make an impression in sand

diging our graves out of mediocrity

never to dream beyond scraping the land

When everyone has to be the same,

how do we find a way to know

we're meant for the sky, did you know that I

could be a butterfly

--and it wouldn't even show!

the World Walker



The Worlds are walking

I stand still



To Walk a World Apart

and be apart

to Walk the world



Forging bridges that will last

dreams that dare to live



The world was Walked before

by One so strong and sure

by Faith



I walk a path that was forged

not of this world



Someday perhaps I will find Home

but not until all others

are consoled



I stand still

The Worlds are walking.

Red Rum



All night I cry for one forbidden sip,

I don't know where my mind went numb

but it's too hard to just forget

that by moon's light I crave red rum.



I look into the glass and see

a stranger stairing back at me

someone I'd never want to be

who drinks red rum excessively.



I tear my skin with dreams of death

my head explodes in rage and fears

every silence, every breath,

becomes the red rum in my tears.



I know it's not right!

I know I'm insane!

I know I'm to blame!

I know it's my crime!

I knew all the time!



Just leave me alone,

I'm not meant to hold.

I was too cold,

cold down to the bone.



And every night I still hear

a little shriek in either ear,

screaming 'murder' loud and clear

so I can drink into red rum.

I Dreamt of Us



Once upon a time you were

my hope, my dream, my prayer.

‘Twas but for wishful thinking

that I hoped you might be there.

Your voice-- that distant whisper

which I’d dream that I could hear

every time I felt so hopeless-

I could pray my hope was near.

So now I ask on bended knee,

my wish, my love, my life:

If simple dreams can still come true,

will you become my wife?





-- Now THIS would be a romantic way for a guy to propose. Guys would probably think this is cheezy, but I wrote it-- and I'm a girl-- and I think it would work really well.

Prayer of the Hopeless Optimist



Thank you for my eyesight,

to see flaws as my own.

Thank you for my sense of touch

to feel like I’m alone.

Thank you for my hearing,

that I may know what’s wrong.

Thank you for my legs,

so I’ll go where I don’t belong.

Thank you for my mouth

which cannot speak the way I feel.

And thank you for my heart,

so I may hurt a greater deal.

I thank you most of all for each

and every gift you give,

It’s you that makes it worth my time,

to learn, and love, and live.







In some places and aspects of life I have taken to calling myself the hopeless optomist. It seems to be the perfect oxymoron to epitomize my freaky ability to find no point in anything, yet still hold out for something greater and do my best with all I can.

You’re Him



You always knew I loved someone,

and I would never speak

of who it was who held my heart,

and made me strong, but kept me weak.

You always thought my mind was there--

his arms around my waste,

a gentle kiss, a simple kiss,

an innocent first taste.

And yet you never new that he

was closer than you thought he’d be

because it’s not a man you see,

my girl- you’re ‘him’ for me.







Wow I really need to update my poetry files here more! I have so much new stuff I havn't put up here it's not even funny. I have a lot of catching up to do here.

Say no to Drugs like Coincidence



Once upon a time,

a time not long ago

in a castle far away

that is closer than you know

there lived a Big Bad Wolf and a Little Black Cat

they sat

and they chat

about controversy-

is Alice really wonderland or just a fantasy?

Way up high a dragon flew

high above the frightened two,

and as it was, that cat, she knew

the Wolf would be it’s snack.

Who could ever tell

it would not have ended well?

Where is the ‘happily’ in ever after?

Where is the laughter?

Such a disaster

to be wishing for this end

the end of such a friend

to save the same Cat

that knew no fiend at that!

So she hissed

and she slashed

and the poor Cat knew

that slaying the dragon was her job to do.

And to this very day we remember the roots

of this tale of Puss, and her dragon-hide boots.



I love the use of a concept so dramatically unrelated to anything it comes to life when related to absolutly everything!

Trickery’s Treat



Crisp with cold,

delicious and free,

bright new leaves

on a rough old tree.

Beauty only sank skin deep,

but the chill chills down to the bone.



Fresh and fair,

frost-bitten air,

I could see your breath there,

though inside you were so warm.

The cold of the dark only froze skin deep,

but the chill chills down to the bone.



Alive and aglow

some autumn night

you saw a happy child,

though I’m such a wild sight.

My smiles and play were just skin deep,

but the chill was born where the monsters sleep;

the chill in me is the smile I’ll keep

when it chills you down to the bone.

I once knew all I cared to know,

and all I knew was true.

I didn’t need to know the ways

of wrong, and right, and new.

I didn’t need to think at all

of why, or where, or how.

I only needed what I had,

and did not then allow

for learning such confusing things

as bigger people fear–

for only death can come of what

we have no need to hear.

To learn is to decide that you

have all the right to say

that something is the way it is

because you think it is that way.

It’s arrogant to estimate that you would know what’s true,

because the other bigger people are unteaching too!

In truth we know not why, or how we came to thus belong,

and it’s all thanks to learning that we know how much we’re wrong!





I got philosophical again! My head hurts when I think...